Of Fascists and Fairies
by A Kugelschreiber
Summary: It's hard when your social life at school is determined by how many times you've slept with Francis, drunk with Gilbert and been allowed by Antonio to feed him churros. Especially for newbies Matthew, Alfred, Rodereich and Lovino. CLICK TO SEE PAIRINGS.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. **

**A/N: **Okay so when the idea of this fic came into mind, I practically stayed up all night planning it. I personally love it. Couple of things before you read:

**1)**AU. Hetalia International Boarding School.

**2)**Contains all pairings. Not just what summary says. Franada/AmeCan/FrUk/PruAus/AusHun/PruHun/Gripan/ChinaxRussia/Spamano etc etc etc. There's more. Trust me.

**3)**Some events in this fic will be inspired by historical events. Just saying.

**Now! Commence!**

**Prologue: Of Dominion and New Beginnings**

A tall and extremely impressive gothic structure stood elegantly on 500 acres of lush green and white mountains with a brooding silence and emptiness. The wind echoed through its massive stone hallways bringing news of the cloudy weather swirling above the castle.

The building was empty- it had been for three precious months of summer vacation- and it was eagerly waiting to be filled with liveliness again as the September weather rolled in. The only souls in the school were those of three youths, nuzzled into an archway atop the third floor, overlooking the massive stone courtyard.

Granted, they were an odd sort of trio consisting of a blonde, an albino and a tan skinned boy. Three of them had returned to the school earlier than everyone else. And they were waiting.

Tall, lean and fair-faced, the blonde boy sat with his long, slender fingers clutching a book. His golden locks swayed with the wind and fell into eyes that weren't drinking in the words written on the thin pages. His deep blue orbs were, instead, focused on the courtyard below.

The albino next to him sat relaxingly, stretching his long limbs and yawning while listening intently to the music emanating from his black iPhone. His blazing, crimson eyes stared at the courtyard below.

Sighing and bringing a tomato to his lips, the third boy tried to ignore the rock music pounding through his friend's earphones. His toned muscles flexed as he patiently fixated his hazel gaze on the courtyard below.

They were the French, the German and the Spaniard.

The playboy, the punk, and the jock.

The lover, the fighter and the patient.

The Bad Touch Trio.

In a way, they were the facists of the school- the trio every student and faculty member looked up and listened to.

Napolean. Hitler. Castro.

And they sat against the wind and waited.

A bell tolled in another part of the building. For a second all remained quiet and still, the atmosphere unchanging. Then came the pools of students, spilling out into the elegant stone courtyard. And the trio gazed upon their new subjects, a smile rising to each of their lips as they surveyed their domain, contemplating how this year would turn out to be.

**Chapter 1: Of Freshies and Newbies**

Matthew searched through the teeming crowd for the only familiar face he knew would be there. The task, however, was seemingly impossible due to the swarm of students around him chattering away. Those who were returning students and knew which way to go weren't making things easier for they had occupied all the vantage points to look for their friends. The rest of the population was composed of clumsy freshman and new transfer students like him and they weren't doing any better.

"Hey Matthew!"

A firm hand clutched Matthew's shoulder, jerking him off balance and practically causing him to fall on top of the American brunette.

"Alfred!" Matthew breathed in relief, glad to have found his friend.

Alfred pushed the dazed boy back onto his feet and straightened his own glasses.

"Boy am I glad to have found you. This place is an ant farm dude!"

The Canadian nodded in agreement and allowed his eyes to swipe a view of the school.

"It kinda looks like Hogwarts," he commented.

Alfred shook his head at the other's naïveté and patted his back. "Whatever makes you feel more comfortable dude."

Matthew ignored his friend's indirect teasing of his liking for the British book series and craned his neck upward, surveying the structure of the school once more. It was then he noticed three lone figures high up in the arches of the building.

"Hey," he started, absently tapping Alfred as he squinted to see well. "Is it just me or are there people sitting up there?"

Alfred narrowed his eyes in the direction Matthew was pointing in. "I dunno man. I thi-"

He was never able to finish his sentence for he was thrown off his feet by two- one very upset and the other dazed- Italian brothers.

"Ve?" the confused one exclaimed and other with the permanent scowl on his face began to yell,

"You _idiot_! You don't just crash into random people! Even if they are American!"

He then proceeded to violently smack his brother in the head as Alfred leapt to his feet.

"Yo Mario! Luigi! What the hell man? Watch where you're going!"

The brother being smacked immediately brought tears to his eyes as he cowered at the American's feet and sobbed, "I'm sorry! I'm sorryyyyyyyyy! Don't hurt me pleeeease!"

Matthew couldn't help but giggle a bit at his friend's extremely surprised expression and at how the kneeling Italian's brother roughly picked him up by the collar and began to scold him.

"Feliciano you _idiota_! You don't just kneel at people's feet!"

"Ve! But Lovino!"

"Oh he can kneel all he wants," laughed a cocky Alfred."I really don't mind."

A bell rang in the distance once more, advocating silence in the courtyard.

"Hey Alfred," the Canadian called out. "I think school has started."

He nodded his head towards the portion of the crowd that had begun to empty into the building. Shoulders slumping, the brunette followed him with the two Italians trudging behind. And in the heat of the drama, Matthew's discovery of the three figures had dissipated. Little did they all know that they had all been seen.

**TL~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The atmosphere of the dining hall was filled with buzzing first day excitement as Matthew and Alfred wove their way past hordes of people, trying to find a decent place to sit. Once they found a table to themselves, the pair quietly sad down on the polished benches, placing their plates of food gently in front of them. Alfred sat across from Matthew and he groaned as he eyed the different the meal in front of him.

"Are you serious? I thought this was supposed to be like a rich school or something. This is it? This is all the food we get? Dude this is like what I eat for snack time!"

Matthew stared at his friend's plate which was basically heaps of delicious looking chicken legs, salad, a well baked potato and two pieces of chocolate cake. He rolled his minds eyes. Oh yes, that was definitely not enough food.

"I'm sure you can go back for seconds," he replied helpfully while picking up his fork and sticking the lettuce in his salad.

Alfred's response was muffled as he was already stuffing his face.

The Canadian sighed, the weight of the day sliding off his shoulders. The entirety of the day had been spent settling into their dormitories and unpacking their luggage that had been brought to the school ahead of them. An orientation had also taken place for all returning and new students in which the entire student body suffered through a monotonous speech about discipline, learning, guidance and all that other school stuff. Matthew and Alfred had also received their schedules and were told that classes started tomorrow.

"May we join you?" inquired a quiet and almost mystical voice.

Matthew and Alfred both paused in what they were doing and looked up to see an Asian boy, who was about the same age as them, standing next to the American. Behind him was a taller youth with olive skin and shaggy, feathery brown hair. His broad shoulders and toned muscles indicated strength while his relaxed lips implied serenity.

Alfred shrugged. "Sure man, why not."

The Asian gave him a customary short bow and proceeded to take a seat, his friend doing so also.

"I'm Kiku," the smaller boy started. "And he is Heracres (Heracles). We are from Japan and Greece."

Alfred's eyes lit up. "DUDE! I love Japan! Land of Nintendo!"

Kiku's thin eyebrows shot up but he had no other reaction.

Matthew smiled. "I love Greek food."

Heracles shifted his soft eyes up to meet Matthew's and he nodded. "Yes. It is very good."

"I noticed you were juniors rike us," continued Kiku as twirled his fork skillfully, "but I have never seen you at this school before. I assume you must be new here."

Alfred gulped down his food noisily and nodded. "Righto! I'm Alfred by the way. And he's Matthew. And yeah we're transfer students from America and Canada."

Kiku nodded in understanding. "I see. Well I must wercome you properry then. Would you rike to join Heracres and me for some Sake in the dormitories?"

Matthew's eyes widened. "You're allowed to have alcohol in school?"

"Rules are meant to be broken," commented the Greek while keeping his eyes on his food.

"Oh Kiku, I see you are making more friends besides this Greek lug over here. It's about time," spoke an imposing and definitely Asian voice, though the accent greatly differed from Kiku's.

The group of four glanced up at the same time as they confronted another Asian. His silky hair was drawn into a slender ponytail and his skin much more yellow than Kiku's. The sleeves of his shirt hung inches past the tips of his fingers. Not that the boy seemed to mind.

"Oh, Konnichiwa Yao nii-san," greeted Kiku. "Everyone, this is my order brother, Wang Yao."

Matthew and Alfred both muttered their hellos, which Wang effectively ignored as he crossed his arms.

"Are you two Americans twins?" he demanded haughtily.

"O-oh! No we're not related. We just happen to look alike," Matthew clarified, laughing nervously.

Alfred frowned. "Yeah! He's Canadian! I'm the American!"

Wang frowned. "We Chinese really don't see a difference"

The American brunette puffed his cheeks and was about to retort when Matthew cut in.

"You're Chinese? I thought you were Kiku's brother?"

"I was adopted," Kiku stated, going back to calmly eating his food like the Greek next to him.

Matthew nodded. "Ahh I see! No wonder you both speak differently."

Alfred crossed his arms like a child. "Well we _Americans_ don't really see a difference."

Something dark and frightening passed through the intense and fiery gazes of the American and Chinese boys that caused Matthew, Kiku and even Heracles to shudder. Way to make friends Alfred. The murderous stare-eye contest would have continued longer if an even scarier looking boy hadn't stepped in and poked Wang in the cheek.

"Ivan!" Wang exclaimed at the brooding newcomer, an intense blush rising to the Chinaman's cheeks. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Judging by his stature, pale skin, dark aura, name and maliciously innocent looking pout, Matthew and Alfred unanimously concluded this newest entrance was Russian. Their blood froze.

Ivan brushed a lock of pale hair out of his face and pointed to a table behind Matthew.

"Gilbert stole my popsicle," he muttered darkly.

Wang blinked. "Gilbert?"

"Gilbert?" Alfred echoed, confused.

Matthew turned his body around 90 degrees to get a clear view at who the Russian was pointing at. As it turned out, Ivan's cold gaze had been fixated upon a heavily populated table.

Technically, only three boys- a blonde, silverette, and brunette- were actually sitting on the benches. Everyone else hovered around them like moths near a light. Gathering from their statures, it was clear that the three of them were seniors and incredibly popular.

The golden headed one was laughing heartily as the three gorgeous girls that were draped around his shoulders whispered things in his ear, his blue eyes full of passion. Next to him, a tan skinned Spaniard was grinning widely, his dimples showing as he had his fans by having them sit in his lap and feeding him what looked like delicious churros. The third was most likely Gilbert for the albino had an orange popsicle in his mouth and a large mug of beer in his right hand. Unlike the other two, Gilbert was surrounded by guys as he was seemingly uninterested in the other girls flitting around them except for the one black haired one he held by the waist.

"Gilbert," Kiku confirmed and Heracles simply nodded.

"Wh-who are they?" the young Canadian dared to ask, though he already suspected the answer.

Wang huffed. "Francis, Antonio and Gilbert. The Bad Touch Trio. They're seniors too. Unfortunately they act more like kings. Everyone listens to what they say in this school. Even the teachers."

Matthew and Alfred instinctively raised their eyebrows.

"Why the hell would anyone listen to them?" Alfred asked, clearly annoyed that there were superior students in the school.

"Because they will make your social life hell if you don't. You're basically judged by how many times you've been in bed with, drunk with, or fed churros to them," Ivan replied dryly, his voice causing Matthew to jump.

"Wow…." he breathed while still staring at the spectacle.

"The French. The German. The Spaniard," said Wang.

"The playboy. The punk. The jock," added Kiku.

A smirk was curled on the Greek boy's lips.

"More like the whore, the drug addict and the academically challenged."

Kiku struck his friend on the back of his head. "Shhhhh! Don't say that! They might hear you!"

Heracles pouted and returned to scraping the last bits of food off his plate. "But it's true," he whispered to himself.

"Whatever," Alfred huffed, coating his words with his _I'm an American so I'm the best_ sugar. "There's no way I'm giving in to them.

He then proceeded to stuff his face again as he had been ten minutes ago. Kiku returned to eating his food silently along with his Greek pal and Wang became engrossed in trying to cool Ivan's dark aura.

Matthew, however, continued to stare for a couple of more seconds. Any feeling of optimism he had about this school he flushed down the drain. For someone like him, fitting in was hard if it were based off of things like sex, drinking and playing around sensually.

A pair of blue eyes caught his gray and the Canadian blushed furiously when he realized the beautiful French boy's gaze had landed on him. Matthew was quick to turn away, realizing how rude it was to stare. But not before a sly smile had crept on the other boy's lips as he gifted Matthew a wink.

The blush on the younger boy's face deepened as he hid his face and resumed his dinner. This year was going to be a disaster.

He had been seen.

**Right so that's that. I would write a really long author's note but I'm not going to. Just review please! :P**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, second chapter. I'm aware nothing much happened in the first chapter. This chapter is also sort of an introductory thing to set things in motion so I'm still mainly focusing on introducing all the main characters. Thank you so much to all who reviewed and alerted. I really appreciate it!**

**Note: AP classes are highest level of a certain subject. Most challenging classes. Honors classes are the lowest. They are more like fast track. I'm aware that in some schools Honors is actually high level but not in this story. **

**Here is the next chapter. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

**Chapter 2: Of Meetings and Impressions**

The bell toll rang throughout the airy hallways as students clad in navy blue and beige uniforms with globes and olive leaves upon their breasts shuffled to their classrooms, chattering away in the refreshing morning light. It was the second day of school and the official starting of classes. The freshmen were perky as freshmen always were. The seniors, however, seemed to be dragging their feet behind them and dark circles took refuge under their eyes- the sign of late night back-to-school parties in the senior dormitories. Excitement of all kinds rippled through the air like electric shocks between every student.

And all of them were lazily being watched by three, very bored boys as they sat perched on their customary arch in the walls, greeting and grinning at everyone who stopped by. Many returnees bounded up to the Bad Touch Trio waving their cameras obnoxiously, begging for back-to-school photos. Others simply stared in awe or walked away quickly, clearly intimidated. This was all routine. Nothing new.

"Call me," Francis murmured seductively to the blonde girl in front of him.

Her hand was outstretched and the French boy had just finished gracefully scribbling his number on her palm with her Sharpie. Placing the black marker back in her hand, Francis gave the girl a quick wink that caused her to blush furiously and she hurriedly turned on her heels and returned to her pack of giggling friends a few steps away.

Francis chuckled, tucking some of his stray golden locks behind his ear and leaned back against the right pillar of the arch.

"Damn man, do you ever run out?" exclaimed the silver hair boy sitting next to him, his crimson eyes blazing with interest.

Francis simply grinned and loosened his navy tie with his slender index finger.

"Well Gilbert there _are_ 7 billion people on this planet."

Gilbert merely rolled his eyes, dragged his gigantic earphones down around his neck and rashly put his hands into the pockets of his black leather pants. His expression immediately sank into a scowl and he plunged his hands into every single one of his pockets, front and back.

"Goddammit," he growled, his crimson eyes threatening.

"What are you looking for?" Antonio asked from the left of the albino, lazily munching a tomato flavored chip. The Spaniard wore no tie and his hair was sexily uncombed as always.

"I… don't… have… any…more…" Gilbert muttered, clearly aggravated, as he now took to dumping the contents of his backpack, not caring for the questioning looks from passing students.

"Ask Elizabeta for some," Francis suggested coolly, his eyes focused somewhere else. "She's heading this way."

Gilbert jerked his head up, his crimson eyes widening in happiness as the slender, black haired girl made her way down the hallway towards the trio, her skirt bouncing with every step and her black leather jacket hugging her torso tightly. One could say she looked like a motorcyclist's sexy girlfriend.

"Hey girlfriend!" the German exclaimed, jumping off the ledge and striding towards Elizabeta, placing his arms around her waist, and greeting her with a deep kiss.

When he finally pulled away, the Hungarian girl frowned, her eyes intimidating.

"I'm not your girlfriend Gilbert," she said in an imposing tone.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Right. Fuck-buddy. My bad. So do you have some? Please say you do."

Elizabeta sighed at his desperate tone, glanced around them, then cautiously removed a small plastic bag with fine white powder in it from the pocket of her jacket, slipping it into the silver-haired boy's hand. Gilbert's red eyes blazed with happiness as a blind man would at seeing the sun for the first time.

"You owe me," she whispered through clenched teeth. "Big time."

Gilbert grinned. "I'll make it up to you. Tonight. I promise," he replied, winking at her in an oh-so-Gilbert way.

A smug smile rose to Elizabeta's face as the final bell rang.

"I'll be waiting. I have to go to class now," she said, acknowledging the echoing bell. She released herself from Gilbert's embrace and nodded at the French and Spanish spectators.

"See ya Francis. Antonio."

Francis flashed her smile and blew her a kiss.

"Later Elizabeta," Antonio called out, grinning, waving as she made her way down the hallway. But his grin suddenly evaporated into a surprised expression.

"Uhh, Francis," he said, his eyes focused on something else. "Isn't that the girl you slept with last night?"

Both Gilbert and Francis turned their heads in the general direction that Antonio was staring in to find a flustered brunette with shades of eyeshadow and rouge painted on her face stomping her way in stilettos towards them.

"Why yes… I think it is," answered Francis.

"Dude, did you like rip her favorite panties or something? Why does she look so angry?" Gilbert asked, raising his eyebrow.

The French boy shrugged. "Hey if that's the case, she should have worn a different pair last night. It's hardly my fault."

"YOU FUCKING MAN-WHORE!" the girl screamed as she approached them, startling all three of them. Francis lazily slid off his side of the ledge, confronting the angry brunette.

"Excusez-moi?"

_SLAP!_ Her palm struck the blond boy's built jaw, causing Francis to stare at her wide-eyed and his friends' mouths drop.

"I HAD FREAKIN SEX WITH YOU LAST NIGHT!"

Francis nodded slowly, not oblivious to the fact that there were tears in the girl's eyes.

"Yes, I am aware."

"HOW COULD YOU HAVE SEX WITH ME ONLY FIVE HOURS AGO AND THEN WRITE YOUR PHONE NUMBER ON MY BEST FRIEND'S HAND?"the girl sobbed.

Francis, Gilbert and Antonio all blinked as the situation became clear. Although rare, it had happened in the past.

"Ma cherie, I'm sure you were aware it was a one night stand only?"

The brunette wiped her threatening tears, her makeup smearing down her cheek.

"Wh-what? N-no, y-you said you loved me last night. You made me feel special," she replied, clearly hurt.

Francis raised a slender eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Did I? Well, it's not entirely false. I love the entire female species. And I'm sure you are very special. But I'm afraid not in the way you'd like to be."

For a moment, the girl in front of him was speechless as if she'd been slapped across the face.

"You're a cold hearted bastard you know that? I feel sorry for every girl who has ever been in your bed. Or even looked at you for that matter," she hissed, turning on her heels and stomping away through the now empty hallway, leaving Francis staring at her back in bewilderment but no remorse.

Gilbert began to howl in laughter, clutching his stomach.

"Gilbert, don't be so rude. Poor girl," Antonio chided, munching on another chip. "She really thought you liked her."

Francis sighed. "Yes, it's the unfortunate other side of females."

"Man, you really know how to screw people over," Gilbert wheezed, trying to recover from his laughter.

Antonio slid off the ledge, playfully punching Gilbert in the shoulder.

"Maybe you should try to stick with one person you like. Just see how it goes," the Spaniard suggested, looking at his blonde friend.

"Pshhh, non," Francis laughed, running his fingers through his golden hair. "Love is like a fairy mon ami. It touches and teases you, making you feel happy inside. And then it's just gone, flown away on its little wings. And besides, monogamy is trés boring. Maybe I'll take a break and have a man this week. I saw a very cute Canadian yesterday."

The copper skinned boy grinned, shaking his head. "You'll never change. Anyway, I've actually got to run. I'm supposed to be teaching Spanish class this year and I'm already a bit late."

"You're teaching Spanish this year?" Gilbert inquired in an obnoxious, annoyed tone. "Why the hell would you do that?"

Antonio shrugged on his backpack and straightened his uniform. "Last year's Spanish teacher retired. And besides, I need a 2.5 GPA to run track this year and Principal Rome said teaching this class would give me credit towards my grade."

"Yes, because the only class you miraculously haven't failed is AP Spanish," retorted Francis, teasingly and Gilbert snickered.

The Spaniard scowled, his caramel eyes narrowing. "Hey, no making fun of my grades okay? It's not funny."

Francis laughed heartily and patted his friend on the back.

"I'm only teasing mon ami. See you."

Antonio waved to his friends and began to walk down the vast hallway. "Yeah, see you at lunch!"

"Have fun teaching freshies!" called Gilbert, hooting at his own personal joke.

The French boy picked up his backpack and slid it onto shoulders, looking at his remaining friend inquisitively.

"Coming?"

Gilbert gathered his stuff and shook his head. "Nah, I think I'll take a tardy for today. I've got other important things to do," he replied, waving the small packet of white powder in front of him.

Francis chuckled. "Alright then. Abientot mon ami. Have a nice snuff in the bathroom."

The silver-haired boy grinned and the boys took off in separate directions towards their destinations. It had already been a very interesting morning.

And as they say, the morning shows the day.

**/**

**/**

"Ughhhh I don't wanna go to class," whined Alfred for about the hundredth time.

His shoulders were slumped in their customary way even thought his backpack didn't seem too heavy. Matthew on the other hand was all excitement and cheeriness. He had completely discarded all pessimistic feelings that he had felt last night at dinner and was ready to take on his first day of classes.

"Come on Alfred," he said soothingly, trying to calm down his complaining friend as they stood in the boy's bathroom with Kiku and Heracles, trying to kill some time. "It's not going to be that bad."

Alfred had been acting like the drama queen he was the entire morning and was freaking out over how he'd die since he had missed breakfast.

The American boy leaned against one of the sinks, crossed his arms and huffed very dramatically.

"School is stupid. There's no point to it. I mean we honestly have no use in learning how H2SO4 is water."

"Umm, actuarry…" Kiku interjected as he combed his hair in the mirror and straightened his tie, "H2SO4 is surfuric acid."

"Nuance," retorted Alfred, pushing his glasses up his nose as they all four heard the ancient bell ring loudly throughout the hallway outside.

The four friends looked at each other. Heracles tugged on Kiku's sleeve.

"We should be getting to Computer Programming," he muttered. "I heard Mr. Yoshihiko doesn't like it when his juniors are late."

Kiku nodded as he gathered his backpack and jacket.

"Yes, we should go." He looked back at Matthew and the still whining Alfred. "You guys can find your way to crass by yourselves right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred answered. "It can't be that hard. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's finding places."

The three other boys blinked, silently acknowledging among themselves how untrue that was as they remembered the events from the night before. Alfred had surprisingly been the least drunk out of all of them and he couldn't tell the difference between the bathroom and Heracles's bed. Kiku had vowed never to offer Sake to the American ever again.

"Don't worry," Matthew assured the Japanese boy. "We'll find our way."

Kiku nodded and with that, he and Heracles exited the bathroom, leaving Matthew and Alfred alone.

"What class do you have first?" Alfred asked as he sighed and stood up straight, yawning.

"Umm, let me check," Matthew murmured, rummaging through his backpack to find his crumpled up schedule. He squinted through his glasses and replied, "I have AP French. You?"

"Holy sweet mother of hotdogs, AP FRENCH?" Alfred exclaimed, running his hand through his hair. "Damn man, are you really that good at French?"

The purple-eyed boy shrugged as he headed towards the exit of the bathroom, motioning for Alfred to follow. "French comes naturally to me I guess. So what do you have first period?"

"Spanish 1. Honors," Alfred mumbled, his self confidence clearly lowered a bit.

"Honors?" his friend questioned, opening the door and heading headlong into the throng of students hurrying to their class. "Haven't you taken Spanish for like five years?"

"Hey, I might have taken it for five years, but that does not mean I learned anything. I always had really stupid teachers," replied Alfred as he tried to dodge other students.

"Well now that I think of it, I've never actually had a decent teacher ya know?" Alfred continued and Matthew knew he was going to rant for several minutes now. "None of them really knew what they were talking about. Especially my science and English ones. Maybe that's why I never speak in proper grammar."

Matthew drowned out the rest of his friend's speech while he looked at the room number written upon his schedule and the map they had been given during orientation.

"Hey," he said to a distracted Alfred, "I think my class is this way. I'll be going now. See ya."

With that, he took off in the direction the map had pointed him in, almost 95% sure Alfred hadn't heard a word he had said and he was still standing in front of the bathroom monologue-ing. Matthew shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he thought of how his friend was never really going to change.

**/**

**/**

Lovino was practically running down the hallway, nearly tripping over his feet as he struggled to keep one arm around his textbooks and the other on his backpack that was threatening to slip off his shoulder. He had overslept because his idiot of a brother had forgotten to set the alarm. Not that it had any negative effect on Feliciano. He always woke up early so he had been on time. Lovino on the other hand had woken up only when the booming of the bell signaled the time to go to class.

Damn, he hated that bell.

As he mentally cursed everything he had seen or heard this entire morning, he skimmed the numbers of the classrooms that he passed by. He hated being a freshman. He didn't know where anything was and that bothered him. After what seemed like ages, Lovino finally stopped in front of room 234.

Spanish. Yuck.

Well it wasn't like he had a choice. He hated French, English, German, Latin, Mandarin, Hindi, Greek, Russian, and Portuguese a whole lot more and there was no way he was taking those classes.

Panting from his hurried arrival, Lovino straightened his tie, re-gathered his hold on his book and backpack, and was about to enter the dreaded classroom when he heard the annoying tone of an American accent.

"Hey! Mario! You're late too?"

Lovino felt his eyebrow twitch as he turned his head to find the very same boy his brother had run into heading towards him.

Great. He was in this class too.

"Stop calling me that," Lovino grumbled. "What are you doing here?"

The American let out a huge sigh of relief and straightened his back, securing his backpack.

"Phew I finally found the room. I couldn't find the damn room! My map kept switching directions. What's your excuse?"

"I overslept."

Lovino then turned towards the door and placed his hand on the knob, signaling that their short lived conversation was over. The other boy kept talking anyway as he opened the door to an already assembled class.

Everyone's heads turned, including the oddly young looking teacher who had been writing something on the chalkboard.

The teacher blinked. "Oh, hello. I think you're late."

Lovino flushed when he saw everyone's eyes on him. How embarrassing.

"What're you all looking at?" the Italian mumbled, walking further into the classroom and scanning for a place to sit. The American followed.

"Here, why don't you guys take this empty table over here," the teacher said, motioning to a table all the way at the front of the room.

_Not the front_, Lovino mentally whined.

He began to make his way to the table being pointed at, ignoring everyone else's curious stare, when the American behind him called out,

"Hey, you're that one popular senior kid! Are you the teacher?"

Lovino, along with everyone else's eyebrows shot up at this question.

The copper skinned _senior_ in front of the class nodded.

"Um, yes. I am. And you too must be…."

He looked down at the roster on his desk.

"Alfred and Lovino?"

The two of them nodded and took their seats. The teacher smiled.

"I'm Antonio. And yes I am a senior. Last year's Spanish teacher retired so-"

"Are you even qualified? I mean, you're still a student," Lovino asked, completely aware of how rude his tone was.

Antonio blinked his deep, hazel-brown eyes and scratched the back of his head.

"I completed the AP Spanish curriculum in my first semester of freshman year without ever taking a Spanish class in my life. Does that make me qualified?"

A quiet murmur of surprise and amazement rippled throughout the classroom.

"AP Spanish in his first year?" Alfred whispered to Lovino. "Dude, I was told he was supposed to be stupid."

Although he didn't show it, Lovino was equally astounded. However, he wasn't surprised at Antonio's qualifications but rather at how he wasn't bragging about it. The Spaniard just said it as if it was nothing important. How could you claim such a feat _without_ bragging about it?

After that, the class progressed as it normally had begun. Antonio started off with basic Spanish greetings and the first ten numbers, asking the class to repeat the words along with him. Lovino however, had an extremely hard time saying "Mellamo Lovino" much less remember what "Mellamo" meant.

Next to him, Alfred wasn't doing any better for he kept mixing up all his words and that was just confusing Lovino a whole lot more. And the girls sitting behind him kept murmuring about how hot Antonio was.

Antonio was not hot. Just because he had really nice caramel skin and feathery chocolate hair did not mean he was good looking.

_Murder me_, he thought. Feliciano was probably enjoying German class a whole lot more than he was enjoying Spanish right now.

They were doing a worksheet on the numbers now. Lovino knew he was going to get a zero on it. Great, a zero on his first assignment of the day.

"Hey, Mario. What's 'diez ee siete'?" Alfred asked him with terrible pronunciation for the hundredth time.

Lovino had just about had it. His eyebrow twitched and his teeth clenched. And when he yelled, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their eyes on him.

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW. STOP ASKING ME. AND STOP CALLING ME MARIO. IF YOUR ONLY CONNECTION TO ITALY IS A COUPLE OF FUCKING JAPANESE CREATED ITALIAN PLUMBERS THEN YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELF."

And with that, Lovino picked up his things and stomped out of the room, not giving anyone a single opportunity to stop him.

Stupid Spanish. Stupid Americans. Stupid Antonio. Stupid Mario. Stupid Nintendo. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, _he thought as he trudged down the hallway with tears threatening to reach his eyes.

He hated this school.

"Lovino, wait!"

The distinct Spanish accent of his Spanish teacher did little to stop him in his tracks. Lovino only sped up, not really wanting to face his joke of a teacher.

A second later, he felt a hand on his shoulder that turned him around to face a barely panting Antonio.

_How the hell did he catch up to me so fast?_ the Italian thought through his cloud of angry emotions.

Antonio smiled a small smile as if he could read the other's thoughts.

"I run track mi amigo. You can't get away that easily."

"What do you want?" huffed Lovino, violently shrugging himself out of the Spaniard's grasp and casting his gaze at the ground. He didn't want to be smiled at at this moment in time.

Antonio hesitated and then started, "Lovino, it's okay if you're frustrated. I understand how that feels."

"Oh yeah?" Lovino muttered in a challenging tone. _Like that's true. Alfred said he was popular. _

Antonio nodded.

"I know it's hard, especially since you're a freshman. This school is intimidating and I don't want you to feel upset on your first day of school. Let me help you."

Lovino raised his eyes to meet kind hazel ones.

"Really now? How?"

The older boy shrugged. "I can tutor you in Spanish if you'd like. That way you can do better in class."

Lovino raised an eyebrow, almost disarmed by the senior's unexpected kindness. _Help me? Me?_

Keeping his poker face, held Antonio's gaze.

"What makes you think I'll say yes?"

Antonio ran a slender hand through his hair. "Well I just assumed you were the kind of person who liked getting A's in classes so I figured you'd take up the offer."

Lovino's eyebrow twitched. What the hell did he know? Although he had to admit, it wasn't that bad of an offer. Maybe he could finally catch up to Feliciano in the language area.

Even if he did have to spend extra time with his annoying and definitely not hot Spanish teacher/senior guy.

"Fine," he mumbled. "I accept your offer. But don't expect an improvement. I hate Spanish."

The older boy merely laughed soothingly and patted Lovino on the head, much to his annoyance.

"Just come to my dorm tomorrow. 5:00 alright? Now I've got a class to teach. You can come back if you'd like. But if you don't that's fine. I won't count it this time."

With that, Antonio turned and gracefully walked back in the direction he came from, leaving Lovino standing in a puddle of angry and confused emotions.

What the hell was with that guy?

And as Antonio opened the door to his classroom, a small smile unconsciously rose to his lips.

Lovino had been seen.

**Phew, yeah that was a lot to write. **

**Fact: The uniforms are based on the United Nations Flag.**

**Well, hope you enjoyed. I tried my best to get this done before my exams next week so it may be a bit rushed and please excuse any improper grammar and spelling. **

**Also I'm aware Hungary's hair is supposed to be brown but for purposes of this story we'll say she dyed it black. **

**Next chapter may take about 2 weeks due to AP testing and other exams. **

**Review! I love those. **

**See ya!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright, time for Chapter 3. I sort of hurried this one a bit because I wanted to get it done before I started studying for finals so sorry for any inconsistencies and grammar mistakes and whatnot. I don't know if this chapter will suit your expectations or not but hopefully it's not too bad!**

**Note: Yes Gilbert is a drug addict and I realize this doesn't fit with many people's opinions. Trust me, it works later on in the story. And Elizabeta is not a bad person. She's actually the wise guy throughout this entire thing. **

**Fact: All teachers in this story are named for the president/prime minister/ leader of certain countries. E.g.: Computer Programming teacher - Mr. Yoshishiko (Japanese Prime Minister). Just thought I'd let you know.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. **

**Chapter 3: Of Jealousy and D Flats**

The first day of school had gone relatively well considering the annoying teachers Gilbert, Francis and Antonio had to endure. They were seniors. Senior classes were supposed to be fun and not so serious right? However, it seemed Antonio had had a very interesting morning and was currently relaying the story of how he met a tiny freshman who hated Spanish as they sat outside the gym lockers.

"It was really quite adorable when he was trying to pronounce 'como estas'," Antonio said, chuckling and Francis couldn't help but smile as he pictured a young freshman yelling at Antonio.

"Man that kid sounds so awesome, the way he just trampled out of your classroom," Gilbert commented, laughing obnoxiously. "He totally reminds me of myself in freshman year."

"Gilbert, in freshman year, you were a tiny brat whom everyone found annoying and they wanted to smack you with a frying pan," Francis snorted, crossing his arms.

"Nah," Gilbert replied lazily, "that was just Hungary. But hey, we're on good terms now right? And she wanted to smack you with a frying pan too Francis so don't go sounding all cocky and whatnot."

Antonio shook his head and chortled at his friend's excessive bantering.

"So Francis, how was your day?" he asked, moving the conversation past the unnecessary insulting he knew would entail.

"My day was spectacular mon ami," the French boy replied, gathering his blonde hair into a ponytail. However, as if he had tasted something unpleasant, he scrunched his nose up and furrowed his brow. "Except I had English class today. With Mr. Kirkland."

Antonio and Gilbert's expressions molded to match France's distaste. Mr. Kirkland was a relatively young teacher, who was now no more than 20, and had begun teaching English in his Senior year much like Antonio. The three friends had been freshman when they endured his first year of teaching and Mr. Kirkland had managed to get on all of their nerves. Especially Francis's.

"You have him _again?_" Gilbert exclaimed, clearly feeling sorry for his friend. "I thought he only taught Freshman and Sophomore English."

"Oui, that's true. However, it seems Principal Rome does not like the fact I skipped every English class I had in my sophomore and junior year and has placed me in Mr. Kirkland's class as punishment," Francis explained, sighing heavily.

Gilbert sympathetically patted his friend on the back and Antonio placed a reassuring hand on Francis's shoulder.

"You'll get through it mi amigo. It's only one more year," Antonio said, his voice drenched in empathy.

"Well aren't you all a gloomy lot," a voice interrupted their depressing moment.

The three boys murmured their hellos to Elizabeta as she strolled up to them, textbooks in hand and her dark hair up in a ponytail. At the sight of Francis's unnaturally dim face and sympathy plastered on Gilbert's and Antonios, she couldn't help but ask,

"What's wrong? You look as if a whole bucket of dark depression just fell on top of you."

"Well this poor fellow here has Mr. Kirkland for English this year," Gilbert explained, pointing at his blonde friend.

"Ahh, I see," Elizabeta replied, her face also displaying sympathy for Francis. "Well he's not really a bad teacher. I just don't see why he has such a grudge against you."

Francis sighed heavily and picked up his backpack from the ground, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Neither do I," he replied, his eyes cast towards the ground. "I have never done anything to annoy him. Except maybe be a smart mouth in his class but that's only because he annoys the merde out of me. Well I should probably head back to the dorm. The English homework isn't going to get itself done."

Muttering his farewells, he stalked off under a cloud of depression as his friends watched his retreating figure.

Elizabeta let out a low whistle.

"I find it really odd how a teacher and a student can hate each other so much," she said, shaking her head.

Gilbert and Antonio merely shrugged.

"They're just arch enemies, like on TV," Gilbert replied.

"Yeah, everyone has arch enemies right?"Antonio added as he picked up his stuff as well and headed towards the gym lockers. "Well now that Francis is gone, I might as well get changed for track practice. Catch you later."

As Antonio disappeared into the boys' locker rooms, Elizabeta shook her head.

"People don't just have arch enemies. Arch enemies don't exist," she argued, mostly to herself.

"Ah forget it," Gilbert said, waving the topic away and pulling the Hungarian closer to him by the waist. "It's only a load of sheiβe. So how was your day?"

Elizabeta thought for a bit as she placed her hands around Gilbert's neck.

"Hmm, not bad, not bad," she replied, still contemplating how her day went. "Oh! I did find something interesting today!"

"Really? What would that be?"

Elizabeta tossed her ponytail back and her eyes brightened as she tried to recall the incident.

"There's this new transfer student who came to this school to study abroad. I believe he's a piano major and he plays really well. I heard him as I was passing by the music room on the way to Culinary class this morning."

The albino German snorted.

"Piano? How lame," he retorted, laughing at Elizabeta's interest in the new student.

Elizabeta frowned.

"It's not lame," she snapped, letting go of Gilbert and releasing herself from his grip. "He's very talented. And I'll have you know that I think he's very attractive. Much more attractive than you for sure."

With that, she turned her chin upwards and strode off diligently, her heels clacking as she left Gilbert with his jaw hanging wide open.

Even though Gilbert really only had the emotional range of a teaspoon, her words really had been an insult. Elizabeta thought someone was more attractive than _him?_ Was she going to start hitting on the new kid and then cheat on Gilbert? Well morally, it would technically be alright since they weren't really dating but _still_!Gilbert huffed as his crimson eyes narrowed. He was going to find this piano kid.

**/**

**/**

The atmosphere was calm and serene as Rodereich entered the massive music room of his new school, though he would have rather preferred his piano room back in his old school. Although the music room in this school was big, it didn't have the homely feeling Rodereich usually felt back home and a sense of nostalgia gripped him as he seated himself in front of the grand piano in the center of the room.

_Well, it's only for a couple of months. Then I can go back home. _

He placed his school bag down next to the stool and pulled out ragged looking parchment from it. Smoothing the paper out with pale and slender fingers, he placed Beethoven's 9th upon the piano and let his fingers glide along the cool, ivory keys.

Closing his eyes, Rodereich inhaled a deep breath and the notes written on his sheet music automatically lit up in his mind as he elegantly began to press the keys on the piano. Immediately he was drifted off into a world of F's and D's and B flats and where every image, taste, sound, and smell was spelled out in music.

Nothing else mattered.

Not even the fact that his house was engulfed in chaos and he was forced to study abroad in this school for the next couple of months.

The piano hit a strained note and the Austrian opened his eyes, frustrated. He could never master that part of the piece no matter how hard he tried. It was a simple 16th note D flat. How could he keep missing that?

Sighing, he looked around the room, making sure no one was in sight, and banged his head across the gleaming white keys of the piano. A cacophonous _BRRLIIIING_ resounded throughout the music room.

After banging his head a few more times, Rodereich got up, straightened his back like a dignified man and pushed his glasses back up his nose, trying to regain his composure.

He would master Beethoven's 9th. He most definitely would.

As he sat up and stretched his fingers, ready to play again, Rodereich was completely unaware of the pair of crimson eyes that were planted upon him.

From the large doorway, a smug looking Gilbert was watching the new Austrian kid closely. After Elizabeta had left, he had decided to take a little journey to the music room. He figured no one would be here and looking for the piano kid in the music room at this time of day was a shot in the dark, but it seemed as though he had gotten lucky.

Granted, he wasn't completely sure this was the kid Elizabeta had been talking about but the description fit. Not only was he attractive- _mildly_, Gilbert thought, _only mildly attractive- _with his dark maple hair, delicate features and the interesting mole right next to his lips; but he also seemed out of place- uncomfortable almost.

So Gilbert took his chances in assuming he was the one.

And now he observed as the new kid drew in another breath and began to play the piece he started earlier all over again. Serene music filled the air and enveloped Gilbert's senses. Although the German really wasn't one for classical music and the piano- it was really un-awesome- he couldn't help but feel swayed by the notes emanating from the grand instrument. The kid had talent.

As his eyes began to close under the intoxication of beautiful music, his quiet tranquil state of mind was interrupted by a strained note- the same one that the piano kid had messed up the first time.

Gilbert opened his crimson eyes, annoyed by the sudden hindrance. However, his annoyance was overshadowed by a loud and frustrated growl from the young Austrian at the piano.

"Dammit!" he exclaimed, looking ready to rage-flip the piano. "Why can't I get that damn note right?"

The piano kid sat fuming for many minutes and Gilbert took this as his signal to leave. He had done enough spying for today and honestly, there was nothing interesting about this kid. Yawning, the silver-headed boy picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, and began to make his way in the direction of the student dormitories when he heard another sigh.

This one sounded sad more than anything else and Gilbert couldn't help but turn back and look at Piano-Kid's lone figure, sitting at the bench.

Roderiech ran a slender hand through his soft brown hair as he tried to cool himself down. It was nothing to get worked up over, right? It was only one note.

Just one note.

"Try playing with your eyes open."

The sudden, unexpected voice startled Rodereich, nearly causing him to fall off of his stool. He had been pretty sure he was the only one here. Turning his head left towards the doorway, his vision met a tall, lean albino with scarlet eyes. He was wearing a leather jacket, black jeans, and the customary school uniform tie. Rodereich hadn't seen this student anywhere around the school. Then again, he was new and hadn't met too many people.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, slightly annoyed by this new entrance.

The other boy merely shrugged.

"I noticed you played with your eyes closed. Maybe you could actually hit that one note if you kept your eyes open and looked at your sheet music. Just a suggestion."

Rodereich's slight annoyance began to develop into irritation. A random student couldn't just tell him how to play the piano.

"Well, it's really none of your business," Rodereich replied snootily, turning away from the other student and pushing his glasses up his nose once again.

"Geez, what went up your ass?" was the retort and it was followed by retreating footsteps.

After a couple of seconds, the Austrian looked back up towards the doorway, meeting nothing but emptiness and he confirmed the strange kid definitely left.

Reaching out for his sheet music as he was ready to go back to his dormitory, Rodereich paused and brought his fingers back to the keys, his brow furrowed.

What if…?

Keeping his keen eyes focused upon the dashes of tiny black notes, he began to play once more.

He followed every note with his mind, absorbing every black dot he encountered.

And then came the D flat.

Eyeing it as a hawk would its prey, Rodereich played with unwavering concentration and his effort was rewarded with a beautiful and clear sounding D flat.

Awe ran throughout Rodereich's body as he replayed that D flat over and over again. It had worked. What that student said had actually worked.

He had succeeded in playing the D flat.

Ashamed to admit to himself that he had received help from a stranger, he peeked again at the doorway, secretly hoping the albino wasn't standing there. To his relief, it was still empty and Rodereich sighed, slightly regretful that he hadn't thanked the mysterious student.

Later that night, when Antonio asked Gilbert what was on his mind, he replied he was merely wondering where his pet Gilbird had taken off to.

It had been a lie of course. Though his bird had gone missing, Gilbert actually spent much his time convincing himself the new Piano-Kid was no match for his awesome self.

And deep inside, he was curious as to whether Piano-Kid had succeeded in mastering that stray note or not.

Not that he cared for that lame piano piece.

Or the new kid he had just seen.

**Yeah so Gilbert sorta meets Rodereich. Now that I've introduced more characters, the story can finally get somewhere! And the whole arch enemy relationship between Francis and "Mr. Kirkland" will be brought to light later in case you were wondering. **

**Last note of business: you should review. That'll help me update faster. K thanks. Love y'all. **


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